Virtually Undercover
by OzGeek
Summary: McGee goes undercover in cyberspace to catch a killer. Minor spoilers for season 5. Look out for McGiva in the last section of the last chapter.
1. New Real Life

**Chapter 1 New real Life**

"Ha!" Abby laughed derisively from her lab bench. "You'll never guess where dead Navy geek spent his online hours."

"Star trek fora?" McGee suggested absently, squinting in an attempt to squeeze any useful information from the obscure picture on his screen.

Abby grimaced. "Forums, McGee, this is America: 'For-a' sounds pretentious."

"How can Latin sound pretentious?"

"Trust me on this – and you're avoiding my question."

"What question?"

"Guess which site dead Navy dude practically lived on?"

"I give up."

"NRL."

McGee's head snapped up, "New Real Life?" He leapt from his stool and closed in on Abby's bench. "The MMORPG virtual reality site?"

"Um, yes," said Abby uncertainly, taking a hasty sidestep to avoid McGee's enthusiasm.

"What's his user name?" McGee demanded

"OK, now, you're scaring me."

McGee ignored her. "Do you have his user name?" he repeated urgently, scanning her computer screen.

"Ah yeah, it's…"

"Navy Dude!" said McGee triumphantly. He turned and smiled contentedly at Abby.

"McGee," Abby started maternally, "what you do in your own time is entirely up to you, but don't you think that if you just got out a bit more…"

McGee's smile of triumph dissolved into a grimace of exasperation. "Abby, I do not use NRL."

"Sure, you don't. I understand."

"Abby!"

"What?"

"There was a sailor murdered six months ago who used the same site and had the word Navy in his user name. Abby, it's the same M.O.: shot in the head then multiple knife wounds to the heart. I did a search through the archives and found another one last year. The victims had almost nothing in common in real life apart from playing this game. This guy makes three."

"Out of 17,000 players, that's not statistically significant."

"I know, that's why we couldn't get a search warrant. They run out of D.C. too so I wouldn't even be eating into the travel budget. Then the big Peterson case hit and the whole thing got pushed onto the backburner."

"Three guys on the same site all murdered," Abby mused. "Is that enough for us to trace the killer's IP?"

"I doubt it. The whole point of the site is to interact with as many people as possible: the more people, the more levels."

"Wow, that's a really strange way to have a social life: sit at your computer terminal and meet lots of avatars."

"The program stores contacts as cookies on the local computer. I correlated the contacts on the other two victims and they had 1800 names in common."

"Well, adding dead no-life number three into the mix should reduce the numbers."

"Yeah, but by how many?" McGee checked the character on the screen. "They are all at a minimum of level 38: that takes a lot of dedicated playing time."

"Maybe we should try the old fashioned method." Gibbs' voice caused them both to spin violently.

"Ahh, boss - there's an `old fashioned' virtual reality method?" McGee queried.

"There's old fashioned undercover work, McGee," Gibbs clarified. "We have to catch ourselves a bad guy in his or her own domain."

"Ha!" laughed Abby, "That's funny because 'domain' is like…." She stopped at Gibbs' blank stare and turned to McGee for a quick smirk of mutual understanding.

"The rules are the same," said Gibbs. "Profile your victims, create a persona."

"You know who we need to create the perfect cyber victim?" Abby asked, suggestively.

"Me?" McGee ventured uncertainly.

"No: Ducky."


	2. The Virtual Victim

**Chapter 2 – The virtual victim**

"I think we have him, Timothy," said Ducky with just a hint of pride.

He was looking over McGee's shoulder, watching as the young agent typed the character details into the registration page. Behind them, three piles of paper were strewn across the lab benches, one for each victim.

"He looks perfect," McGee concurred.

"You know," Ducky mused, "Creating the look of a 'typical' victim is considerably easier when you can just combined the faces of the previous victims in a computer program. It's a pity we can't do that on real people."

"The joy of mighty multi-Morph Pro," said Abby.

McGee hit the submit button. "That's it," he said. "We have a calculated median avatar, a Navy user name, and a personal profile that is typical of all three victims. All we have to do now is play. There's only one problem."

"What's that?" asked Abby.

"All the victims had characters that were married and then had affairs."

"That's a problem," Abby agreed. "None of us knows how to get married in real life let alone…" she stopped as Gibbs walked in. "How long do you need to be married for?"

"Longer than that," said Ducky with a nod to Gibbs. "It's fine, Timothy, I'm sure you can find a suitable young lady in this playing field."

"Make it fast," Gibbs suggested. "Get your character to build a boat."

* * *

"How's it going, Romeo," asked Abby, hours later.

"Terrible."

"You can't be that bad."

"Well getting women into bed is actually pretty easy, but there is a lot more work involved in getting someone to marry you than just sleeping with them."

"You don't say."

McGee rolled his eyes at her. "You see the problem is that, in order to get married, you have to have both a long playing time AND enough sexual 'experience points'. The better your sexual experience, the better class of wife you can get."

"So otherwise you'd be marrying a skank?"

"Pretty much," McGee agreed. "The last woman I managed to woo into my room I tried to romance by lighting candles around the room."

"Oooh, romantic."

"Not when you accidentally light the flower arrangements and set the place on fire. Whoever's playing that character probably thinks I'm some bizarre pyromaniac."

"Well, I've got some good news for you."

"You found a matchmaker subroutine?"

"Almost."

"Almost?"

"I downloaded a program to do the grunt work."

"Actually, I sort of enjoyed the grunting part."

Abby slapped him playfully on the arm. "Not that: I mean the day to day basics. People developed these little programs so you can go to the bathroom or go shopping and the game keeps on ticking over. It has some standard situations that your character might be required to do like – going to the bathroom and going shopping. It gets your hours up."

"Can it get me married?"

"I haven't found one of those yet but really, you need to put in the hard yards, McGee. This is a big commitment."

McGee groaned and sank to the bench. "I need a break. I've been fornicating all afternoon, my hand is sore."

"That is way too much information, McGross," said Tony as he walked into the lab.

"At least I'm getting paid for it Tony."

"Must make a change from paying for it, McDesperate. Come on, we're going to interview some computer geeks and we need someone to 'speak the geek'."

Abby pushed McGee off the stool. "Oh, oh, my turn."

"Ah Abs, I don't know if that is such a good…"

"Ooh, you get bonus points for fetishes!"

"What? Where? I didn't see that."

Abby narrowed her eyes at him and grasped the mouse possessively. "You had your chance, now let an expert show you how it's done."

"You're an expert in marriage?"

"I'm an expert in … a lot of things."


	3. Meet the Geek

**Chapter 3 - Meet the Geek**

"We're we going?" asked McGee as he, Gibbs, Tony and Ziva all climbed into the squad car.

"YourLife headquarters," said Gibbs.

"The makers of New Real Life!" McGee squealed. "Cool! Did we get a warrant?"

"Nope, we're just going to look around, ask some questions and prick their social consciences."

"They haven't got any social anything, Boss," said Tony. "Haven't you seen the game?"

"Well, I think you are misjudging them," Ziva piped up. "They are just computer experts filling a niche market. It does not mean that they themselves are social outcasts. I think you will be pleasantly surprised."

* * *

"You sure this is the place?" asked McGee uncertainly as they pulled up outside a large metal warehouse festooned with air-conditioners. The parking lot was jammed with outdated, rusting vehicles locked in a race to see which could fall apart first.

"Yep," Tony confirmed, checking the address. "Welcome to the lofty offices of YourLife."

The four agents headed for the wooden sign bearing the word 'Entrance' which was crudely nailed to a door hewn into the side of the building. An ominous low hum permeated the air. Gibbs gave the door a hearty nudge and it screeched open in protest to reveal a gloomy cavernous interior. The ominous hum was replaced by an overpowering roar which rendered the air almost solid. The only light originated from the seemingly endless banks of computer servers that dominated the central half of the space. As their eyes adjusted, it became clear that the servers were fringed with desktops, each sporting its own personal geek. On the ceiling, an orange light began spinning and a number of the geeks turned their monitors away from them.

"Can I help you?" called a distant voice.

Squinting, they could just make out a scrawny silluette in the gloom heading towards them.

"NCIS," Gibbs called against the noise, holding up his badge for inspection.

"Navy cops?" A barely pubescent male materialized before them, crater-scarred face dusted with wispy hairs. "What could we possibly have done to bug you?"

"Nothing," Tony answered, "but three sailors using your site have turned up dead recently."

"Do you know how many users we have?"

"Yes," answered McGee, succinctly. "But the manner of death was suggestive of a serial killer and the only connection is….your game."

The man considered them for a moment, his facial features difficult to read in the half light. "Come into my office," he said finally. Then he turned back into darkened cave and yelled: "Kill the PhD light."

"The what?" asked Tony as they followed him single file across the front of the warehouse.

"The PhD light," the man explained simply. "The minimum requirement to work in this place is a PhD. If we have a non-PhD visitor in the room, we turn on the light. It's sort of a 'dumb alert' warning people to lower the level of their conversations."

The comment caused Gibbs to roll his eyes. Ziva, on the other hand, was absolutely fuming.

"McGee here has a Masters in Co-homosexual equations!" she exclaimed.

"Co-homological equations," McGee grimaced, hoping Tony hadn't heard and filed it away for later use. Tony's smile suggested otherwise. "Advance String Theory," he added.

"Him," came the acerbic reply with a nod to McGee trailing at the end of the line, "we might let use the bathroom. Around here, a Masters is considered a hobby degree. The sort of thing we expect old people to do at the end of their careers."

They arrived at a walled off area in the front corner of the warehouse which appeared to be a rudimentary office with just a single small window. On the wall just outside the door stood a blackboard with crewed markings scrawled across it. The abrupt young man ushered them in, turning on a wane yellow overhead light as they passed him. The sudden silence as he shut the door took them all by surprise.

The man took his seat at the rickety desk condemning the three agents to stand. "OK, lay it on me."

Gibbs opened his mouth but shut it again as the noise level exploded again. They all looked up to see McGee entering guiltily. Gibbs shot him a questioning look.

"Ahh, sorry Boss," he said. "I was just looking."

Shaking his head, Gibbs turned back to his subject and whipped out his identification again, prompting the others to do the same, "Special Agents Gibbs, DiNozzo, David and, occasionally, McGee," he said.

The young man stared at them, obviously not bothering to commit the information to memory, "And?"

"And you are?" Tony prompted.

The man heaved a bored sigh, debating whether to deign them with his title. "Lucius The Magnificent," he said finally. "Does it matter?"

"It will when you're under oath," said Tony under his breath.

"I re-iterate, that's 'repeat' for you phys-ed majors, what can I do for you? I am assuming you know I can not divulge my client's information and even if I did, there is no reason for them to be truthful when they register their details."

"No," Tony replied. "We just want to get a feel for what you do, the type of people who use your site."

"An idea of how anyone could trace an IP address from the outside," McGee added.

"Not possible," Lucius assured him. "The place is airtight, designed it myself. Everything is centralized here – no one knows anything about anyone else. Not unless they reveal something in the chat rooms."

"Do you log the chats?" asked McGee.

"No, too much overhead; we're a small operation. The users are free to log the chats themselves, of course, but we don't keep any records here."

"So you are saying," Ziva cut in, "that the only way any one can trace the location of other players is from inside this building?"

"Very good," said Lucius paternally. "The only way you could trace an IP from outside this building is if I personally wrote you a program to do so."

Ziva held her annoyance in check. "Then may we have a complete list of your employees?"

Lucius considered her momentarily then relented, "That I can do." He leaned over to his computer mouse and doubled clicked a few times. "I can give names and addresses, anything else is up to you to find. Some of these people guard their privacy very well." Then he held out his hand and demanded, "Thumb drive".

McGee wiped his hands on his clothing and hustled to dig a USB drive out of his hip pocket. Lucius plugged in the drive, copied the files and handed the stick back.

"Tell me about your operation," asked Gibbs.

Lucius sat back in his chair and ran his eyes over them, considering the level to aim for in his response. "New real life is a multi-player virtual reality program," He began finally. "We provide our customers with a social life and in many cases it's the only life they have. Let's face it – your average computer geek just isn't going to score a rich, good-looking spouse and the dream of settling down with 2.5 kids is entirely out of their reach. Even if you happen to attract a mate, you spend your whole time wondering if they are only in it for your intellect or money. Our program lets them have it all."

"So who's this?" asked Tony picking up the framed photo of a woman from Lucius' desk, "Your mother?" He did a double take and examined the photo again. The woman looked like a Bratz doll with large bug like eyes, flowing shiny hair and hooped earrings.

Lucius grabbed the photo from Tony's hand. "She is the exception that makes the rule: my girlfriend, Maria."

"And is she attracted to your body or your great personality?"

Lucius graced Tony with a long, slow, distain-filled blink. "Maria has the inverse problem to me: beautiful to look at but no intellect. She is interested in improving her mind and I am here to help her. It's a symbiotic relationship."

"I'm sure," said Tony, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"She is also our consultant on all things female. You might notice we don't have a lot of female staff."

"Like, none," said Tony.

"If that is all," Lucius bristled, "I have a company to run."

"We'll be back," Gibb promised.


	4. Enter the Romanians or Rumanians

Chapter 4 – Enter the Romanians

"Married yet?" asked McGee, entering the lab to find Abby hunched over the mouse with her tongue protruding in concentration.

"No but your experience points are through the roof. That makes you a better prospect."

"But it's only been a few …why do I now have whips and leather in my inventory?"

"Tools of the trade."

"What are you making my boy do to that woman?"

"Letting: not making. Don't complain: you need the experience, if not the experience points. I'm logging my actions so you can try it at home."

"I'm not even going to ask. What level are you?"

"Level 5."

"This is going to take forever. We need to reach at least level 38 with spouse in order to fit the victim profile."

"How many days?" asked Gibbs appearing at the lab door.

"About 30 at this rate but it gets more difficult to move up levels as you get further along. Part of the problem is that we aren't experienced players."

"Is this going to cost me overtime?"

Abby paused her playing and turned to look Gibbs in the face. "Not necessarily. If you are willing to spend the cash, we can speed this along?"

"How?"

"Subcontract."

"What?"

"Subcontract: there are companies in Romania who subcontract out the character playing. You just given them your name, password, level and character requirements and they'll quote you a price. They run sweatshops with shift workers working 24 hours a day 7 days a week."

McGee looked perplexed. "What sort of market can there be for that? You're paying for someone else to do your hobby for you."

"It's the 'now' generation," Abby explained. "People want to become high and mighty in these games but no one likes to start at the bottom and work their way up."

"My character's doing exactly that right now," McGee commented, indicating the avatars on the screen.

"How much?" Gibbs cut in.

Abby climbed off her stool and stretched her back, leaving McGee's character to enjoy itself. "I'll just check." Changing computers she started typing frantically. "Ok, we're on New Real Life at level 5, we want level 38 and spouse. Do you want them to buy the house?"

McGee looked mystified, "What?"

Abby sighed in exasperation, "You didn't even read the rules, did you?"

"I like to sort of learn as I go."

"Well, according to the rules, you can only have a bachelor pad until you get married and then the two of you have to make a joint decision on property. It's like life 101."

"We'll do it all, Abs," said Gibbs. "House, garden, pets: anything beyond the basics I want to see."

"OK, and we'll want a copy of all chat room logs; especially if we're using a Romanian Yenta. Now is there anything I've missed."

"Proxies," McGee reminded her.

"Right," Abby agreed.

"English," Gibbs demanded.

"Our victims were killed at home even though they also played at work," Abby explained. "I mean, I'm sure it was in their lunch hour and all. Anyhow, we need to make it looks as if our player does his gaming at work and home."

"The victims all lived down the east coast," McGee added.

"So if the killer can trace IPs, they are unlikely to fly to Romania. We have to convince them that this player is based here in D.C."

"So we'll set up the Romanians with my home router IP and the NCIS gateway address. They'll probably go for my home, though Boss. Apart from the fact that all the victims were killed at home, they'd have a hard time tracking me down inside this building over the intranet because …," he stopped as Gibbs' expression suggested he had strayed form the original 'English' directive. "We can make it look as though I was playing at home after hours and at work other times. That way we can building up a pattern until the trap is sprung."

"Do it," said Gibbs. Then he turned to McGee and eyed him suspiciously. "Is this going to cost me overtime in game playing?"

McGee considered, "Might depend on if I get killed or not."

Gibbs returned his attention to Abby. "Is that it?"

"That's pretty much it." Abby hit return and waited for the calculation. "Quote is 70 hours and $US600."

"$600!"

"It's cheap compared to lost wages."

Gibbs grunted grudgingly. "This had better work."

Abby smiled. "I'll take that as a 'yes'. Now does NCIS have a PayPal account?"

* * *

**Author note.**

I have changed all occuarances of 'Rumanian' to 'Romanian' but I want you guys to know it was NOT a spelling mistake, 'Rumanian' is still a commonly used form of the word out here. The derivation is French which has both the o and the u: Roumanian. At some point in 1861, the Rumanians decided they wanted to stress their links with the Roman empire and started pushing for the 'o'. If you use google, you'll still see both forms.


	5. Insecurities

**Chapter 5 -** **Insecurities**

Four days later….

"Do you think he's right?" McGee asked, staring abstractly into space.

Tony, the only other person in the bullpen, looked up from his computer. "Who?"

"Lucius."

"I doubt it: right about what?"

"Do you think he's right that geeks can never attain a life partner? That the dream of a soul mate, the house with the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids just isn't for us?"

"Nah, look at Bill Gates – he's married."

"So you're saying that all I have to do is become the richest man in the world and I can finally find a woman?"

"Is this brutal murder stuff boring you, Probie?"

McGee looked down at his keyboard, guiltily. "No, but…well, you know."

"Look, Probie. You've got a better chance than me."

"How do you figure that?"

"Let's start with Abby. When Abby and I first met, she would hardly give me the time of day. Told me I was like a piercing. In fact, I think her exact words were, 'Takes a while for the throbbing to stop and the skin to grow back.' Whereas, you – the first thing you two do is go out to lunch! Before I know it she's inviting you to stay at her place and you've got your name carved on her coffin's wall of honor!"

"But you had Jeanne."

"Who they paid me to date."

"She didn't know that."

"Look, she fell in love with Tony DiNardo, University film lecturer. She'd never fall for the real me."

"Com'on Tony."

"And then there's Ziva."

"What about Ziva?"

"Ziva: the ice queen. At the same time Abby is saying hugging her was like hugging a pole, Ziva is all over you. First she's dressing you in the Magnum shirt and patting your face and then she's kissing you while pretending it's your birthday. Now she's bringing coffee to your desk and serving it with a kiss to the cheek! Who else does she do that to?"

McGee frowned thoughtfully. He hadn't really considered Ziva might actually like him. Sure she did nice things for him and she defended him against Tony but like him? He thought about the way she let him clean her face when they fell in the pond and how she looked at him when he had her in his arms after she cut down the bag of gold. Even Abby had suggested they get a room….

In the background, Tony was still talking. "… and who is the ONLY person on the team she bothered to email – you. Not me, not Gibbs, not even Abby: you. It's Abby all over again except that you haven't slept with Ziva yet. Probie? ….. Probie?"

"What?"

"Tell me you haven't"

"Haven't what?"

"Slept with Ziva."

"And I'd tell you if I had?"

Tony was up immediately. "Spill, McGee or I'll, I'll…"

"What could you possibly threaten me with that would be worse than what Ziva could dream up – and do - if I told you?"

"So it's true!"

"I didn't say that."

"But you're thinking about it right now."

The accusation took McGee off guard. "Only because you put it into my head."

"You put your head where, McGee?" asked Ziva, appearing from nowhere.

"Nowhere," McGee flustered, his ears flaming red. "Tony was just trying to tell me that geeks can have a life. At least I think that was what he was trying to do."

"Now I'm worried he has more life than me," Tony admitted.

"Don't worry, Tony," said Ziva. "You'll always have the sperm bank…oh hold on, no you won't."

"Hey," called Gibbs, emerging from the elevator. "Do we have any information on the OTHER social retards?

He was greeted by a chorus of, "Yes Boss" as the agents scattered to their computer screens.

"New Real Life has had thirty casual employees over the past year and a half, all computer gaming related PhDs," Ziva started. "Every single one squeaky clean. Not so much as a parking ticket. No one has worked for the company for more than 6 months; it is a very transient workforce."

"It should be called 'No life'," Tony surmised.

"Why do they work for him?" asked Gibbs.

"Well, let's face it Boss," said McGee seriously. "PhD in computer gaming design and testing: it's either work for Lucius or go back to asking, 'do want fries with that'. Mainly they work there to earn money while they are looking for real jobs in the industry. It looks better than 6 months of unemployment."

Gibbs scoffed.

McGee continued, "Legal managed to get a court order on the IP addresses of victims and spouses but I found nothing in common, they weren't even in the same states."

"You know, bad guys can drive, Probie," Tony pointed out.

"Yeah, Tony, but the point is we can't prove anything."

Silence.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs prompted.

Tony looked up suddenly. "Lucius the Magnificent is actually Edgar James. Eddy the Magnificent just doesn't have the same ring about it. Computer expert, programmer yada, yada, yada, he's been running this New Real Life for about three years. He built it up from a small company, probably running out of his mother's basement, and it's now a pretty handy earner. He's also clean which is a pity because I'd love to take him down for something."

"You may still have the chance," said Gibbs. "Girlfriend?"

"Maria Steiner, well she's a regular at the hairdressers, gets her nails manicured and likes tanning saloons." He smiled sarcastically. "At least she's not in it for the money."

"Keep on it."

McGee's phone rang. Even from across the room, the voice on the other end was unmistakably Abby's.

"Yes!" McGee grinned as he cradled the handpiece. He looked across to Gibbs. "Our guy is back from his Romanian honeymoon and is at level 38."

"What are you waiting for?" asked Gibbs. "Let's go play computer games."


	6. You can choose your friends

_Sorry for the delay. My mother is unwell and it suddenly took up a chunk of my time. There are two more chapters after this, I'll get them out when I can. Any changes PMed to me will go in eventually, I just haven't got the time right now._

* * *

**Chapter 6 – You can choose your friends but not your spouse**

"McGee: meet your new wife," said Abby as the four agents arrived in her lab.

"Whoa," cried Tony, elbowing McGee out of the way. "Whose been playing with 1950's Barbie dolls? Look at those dimensions: 42 inch bust, 25 inch waist."

"She'd need crutches just to keep her balance," Abby agreed.

"So this is what the player looks like in real life?" asked Ziva.

"For McGroom's sake, I hope so," remarked Tony.

"Nooooooo," Abby assured her. "In real life she's probably 45, grey and overweight."

"What do we know about the character?" asked Gibbs.

"I'm just checking her inventory now: hot pants, thong, chains and hand-cuffs. Nothing you wouldn't find in every woman's handbag."

"Aren't we like supposed to move into a house or something?" questioned McGee.

"First things, first," said Abby. "Right now we have to answer this popup window."

McGee squinted at the screen and read aloud slowly and deliberately, "Do you want to consummate marriage: yes or no?"

"Well?" Abby prompted.

"Ah, yes I suppose so."

Abby smiled, "OK, I'll just tweak the honeymoon settings."

"What?"

"Trust me, you need the points."

Abby opened up a small window, clicked some buttons and slid some sliders before killing the window again. The two characters set upon each other with vigour and not a little enthusiasm.

"OK," she said finally. "While they're doing that, we'll line up our first mistress. Oh no, what's that?"

"What?"

"Ahhhh, get out, get out, get out!"

"What?"

"She's pinging me."

Tony frowned. "Is that a good thing?"

McGee shot Tony a dirty look. "Did you try to back trace?"

Abby took a moment to glare at him. "No, McGee, I thought I'd take time off to knit a sweater." She returned to her keyboard. "Besides, they aren't hacking me from outside, they're hacking us from the intranet."

McGee jumped onto the keyboard next to her. "Through the defense network? Then they are either part of defense or committing treason. I'll see if I can catch them at the …"

"Um….,"Abby began slowly. "I've traced her."

"And?" Gibbs prompted.

"Ahhhh, you're not going to like this."

"Abby," McGee said warily. "Just who exactly did I marry?"

"Me," said a familiar voice behind them. Fornell marched into Abby's lab flanked by a plain-looking, bespectacled woman whose eyes seemed glued to her iphone.

"Tobias?" said Gibbs.

"Didn't know you swung that way, Probie," Tony remarked. "But it does explain that Masters degree."

"It's not as if I'm the first member of this team to go for a cross-dresser, Tony," McGee pointed out.

Fornell looked disappointed. "I should have known by the character name. Whose idea was Navy_Cis?"

"It was better than Navy_Bait," McGee offered lamely.

Fornell ignored him, directing his attention to Gibbs. "What gives?"

"You first."

Fornell stifled an exasperated sigh. "FBI is investigating abuse of government resources and the high number of government secrets leaked in chat rooms. In particular, we're tracking down all the people who are playing computer games on company time instead of doing their jobs. Agent Farrell here is charged with monitoring every keystroke and mouse click in defense."

"Fornell and Farrell?" Tony queried. "The FBI assigns agents in alphabetical order?"

"We have a hit list of popular gaming sites and NRL is on it. You play an online game on company time and we take notice."

"You have a lot of, ahh, experience on that game," said Agent Farrell to McGee, blushing.

"Actually, it was mainly me and a Romanian sweatshop," Abby assured her.

"Romanians?"

"Why did you have to marry me?" asked McGee. "I mean, my character."

"Standard procedure," Farrell assured him. "We've have had this character ready for quite sometime, you'd be amazed what sort of classified information is handed out in chat rooms, especially to wives. We've already handed out two security breaches for chat room content."

"Well, you made the trip for nothing, Tobias" said Gibbs. "This is an authorized game. We've got a serial killer targeting sailors on this site. McGee is undercover. Everything you see here is entirely legal."

Fornell and Farell frowned at Abby's screen, trying to decipher what the characters were doing. Slowly, very slowly, they turned their heads sideways in perfect synchronicity.

"You sure that's entirely legal?" said Fornell finally.

"Well, maybe not in this state," Abby admitted.

"While you're here Tobias, why don't you and your husband McGee decide on a nice house together," Gibbs offered. "It will save time when he cheats on you."

* * *

"Well, that didn't go so well," McGee remarked as Fornell and Farrell left the room.

"Why, it's a nice house in the suburbs?" said Abby.

"Nothing's changed," said Gibbs tersely. "We've set the bait, now time to catch ourselves a killer. McGee: you're going home early tonight to play computer games and commit adultery. I want you there every night. Don't stop until someone makes an attempt on your life."

McGee blanched.

"David: you're going with him. Congratulations, you are now his wife."

"See how easy it is to find a wife, Probie?" Tony grinned. "Gibbs just assigns them to people."

"Yeah," said McGee, "but just once I'd like to get to choose."


	7. Geek night life

_**Warning** - slight spoilers for season 5. For those of you who haven't seen it: McGee has a dog named Jethro**.**_

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* * *

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**Chapter 7 – Geek night life**

Ziva heaved a bored sigh. She was straddling a chair next to McGee with her arms wrapped around the lean so that she could rest her chin on the backrest and watch him play. Every night of the past two weeks had been exactly the same: first they would have dinner and then while she read, did yoga or ran the dog, McGee would play endless hours of computer games – and it was endless. She would wake at 2 am to find him still playing.

At first she dressed conservatively around McGee's apartment so as not to distract him from his important game playing. It soon became apparent, however, that distracting him was not going to be a problem - not unless she worked at it. Each night she gradually increased the amount of exposed flesh in an effort to draw his attention until she was down to wearing just a flimsy transparent negligee. Tonight she was experimenting with draping her hair seductively around the negligee, throwing in the occasional commercial worthy hair flick. Still he had not noticed her. Not even a glance. She might have to resort to complete nudity. No wonder no one married a geek.

"You actually enjoy these computer games, McGee?" she sighed.

McGee was a picture of concentration, chewing on his bottom lip. "Normally: yes but the fact that I am acting as bait for a psychotic killer does tend to sort of take the edge off it."

"Do you mind if I get some sleep now?" she asked rhetorically.

"Knock yourself out," McGee replied, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"That will be unnecessary for sleep at this hour," Ziva remarked, puzzled. She looked over to Jethro who was staring morosely at the computer. "Would you like to go to bed, Jethro?"

The dog was on his feet in a heartbeat.

"Let us go then," she said in a resigned tone, "at least one man wishes to join me in bed tonight."

* * *

A few hours later, McGee heard the familiar Skype ring over Ziva's snoring and checked his contacts – Abby.

"How's it going, lover boy?"

"Don't you ever sleep?"

"Not by night."

"Well tonight I'm trying some new scenarios. I've done some research and I think I've found some good pick-up lines."

"Tony gave them to you, didn't he?"

"Well…"

"You realise most of the female characters are played by men who actually think those lines work? They will never work on women in real life."

McGee deflated. "Let me have a little hope." Suddenly he froze: something felt wrong. "Hold on Abs," he said seriously.

Rising noisily from his seat, McGee stepped carefully around the room in stockinged feet. He frowned as he met an open window – he was sure he'd closed that. Ziva must have opened it. No wonder he was hearing noises – the street could be very loud at night.

Closing the window, he turned back to the computer and came face to face with the barrel of a gun. In the distance he could hear the melodic Skype ring as Abby tried to re-establish a connection that had clearly been severed. The Skype calling stopped and his cell started ringing.

"Well, this is a new one for me," said the woman holding the gun, her enormous earrings swaying gently beside her head like two abandoned swings. "Usually they are cheating on a wife; this is the first time I've found a bi-guy cheating on his man."

"What man?"

"Don't 'what' me, I can hear the snoring."

McGee squeezed his eyes shut and tried to decide which response would give him and Ziva the best chance while Abby called in the re-enforcements."

"You computer sickos and your online cheating," the woman growled. "I saw your plaything on the computer."

"Drop it!" Ziva commanded aiming her muzzle squarely at Maria's oversized cranium.

"Who are you?" Maria demanded.

"His gay lover," Ziva responded. "I snore, so sue me."

"Do you know what he's doing late at night while you're asleep?" Maria said, her voice rising slowly in degrees towards hysteria. "He's trying out virtual affairs and now he's found another woman. The attention he lavishes on you is soon going to make another woman happy."

"Oh I sincerely doubt that," said Ziva.

"Believe me, I know. I hold out the whole time my husband is deployed and he comes home and has an affair. Then I find he's been practising on a computer game, testing scenarios with his online wife to see if he'll get caught! He told me he was studying for promotion and I believed him. No woman should have to live with a man like that. I didn't, you don't."

McGee's door slammed open, the frame shattering on one side, to reveal Gibbs and Tony with their guns trained.

"Sounds like a confession to me," said Tony. "Put it down, Maria. You're under arrest for murder, attempted murder and unauthorized use of the Bratz doll trademark."

Tony came forward and cuffed Maria while Ziva secured her weapon.

"I gave you a key," McGee grumbled, surveying his battered door frame from a distance.

"But this was much more dramatic," said Tony. "Like Magnum."

"Thanks, Tony."

McGee's computer emitted a solitary beep. Frowning, McGee crossed the room and checked his email. "Boss," he said uncertainly, "I just got an email from the webmaster at New Real Life."

"And?" Gibbs prompted.

McGee opened the file and scrutinized it carefully. "It's IP stuff – from Eddy James. He's hacked Maria's account on the New Real Life server and found evidence of her hunting the IP addresses of the victims – including me."

"Is he still there?"

"Yep."

"Don't these people have lives???" asked Tony.

"McGee," said Gibbs, "take Ziva and see what he's got while we escort Ms Steiner to a place a little less comfortable."

"Yes Boss." McGee started for the door.

"McGee!"

"Yes Boss?"

"Ziva might want to get changed first."

"Why?"


	8. End Game

_Warning - last section has some McGiva. I was bribed with chocolate. Don't complain, you were warned._

* * *

**Chapter 8 - End Game**

The person McGee and Ziva found in inhabiting the small office of YourLife was a stranger: a husk of the man formerly known as Eddy James.

"You caught her then," he said quietly, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the USB stick in his hand.

"Ah, yeah," McGee confirmed.

Eddy heaved a resigned sigh. "I didn't want to believe it at first – I mean she didn't even finish high school. It never occurred to me she could use a computer. I used to leave her alone in this office for hours while I fixed problems in the main room. I thought she was just sitting in here filing her nails or reading one of her magazine with celebrities and babies on the cover."

"And?"

"After your first visit I found evidence that someone here was hacking my account so I ran a site-wide diagnostic."

"And you found her," Ziva concluded.

Eddy looked up at her with a look that started with his usual disdain but soften quickly to a self-effacing smile. "Actually I found everyone was hacking. The problem with hiring a heap of highly intelligent yet bored computer experts and arming then with an enormous server is that they tend to push the boundaries. It's like a rabbit warren in there – and I didn't even realize."

"So how did you find her?"

"I confined myself to just the IP stuff and there she was. Oh it was hidden and everything but it was there. It was done from my terminal when I wasn't here." Eddy took a moment for a humourless chuckle. "I was right – you can't trace IPs from outside this building. You can, however, play the guy who runs the joint and check them from his computer."

Eddy held up the thumb drive with a sad smile. "A reversal of trends," he said. "Here's all the info I found. She tried to wipe it clean but she failed. She was good, but not better than me. I hope it's enough."

"Actually, she confessed," said McGee, rather sheepishly.

* * *

Eddy followed them out of his little office as they left and found McGee scribbling on the blackboard just outside his door.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, reverting to his usual tone.

McGee straightened guiltily, replacing the chalk and wiping his dusty hands on his pants leg.

"Ahh, nothing. There was just another equation on the board like last time and I figured you guys get too busy to finish them so I, ah, just did this one too."

Eddy stared at him agog. "That's the monthly challenge", he said. "It takes the team a whole month to solve it – there's a prize. I thought someone hacked into my computer to find the answer to the last one."

"Oh, ah, sorry," McGee apologised, beating a hasty retreat with Ziva following behind, sniggering.

* * *

"You are very quiet, McGee." Ziva noted as they drove back together through the quiet early morning streets. "I have tempered my driving to meet American standards despite the fact there are no other cars on the roads."

"No, no it's not you. It's just that he wasn't even the exception," said McGee sadly.

"Who?"

"Eddy James. I thought if he could find a woman then surely I could but he didn't. Maybe he's right: women just don't go for our type."

Ziva brought the car to a halt at the side of the road. She turned, lifted his chin with her hand and planted a kiss on his pouting lips. "Special Agent Timothy McGee, no middle initial," she said quietly, "you are a very attractive man. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise."

McGee was stunned.

But Ziva was not finished. "Yes, you may not notice an almost naked woman flaunting herself in front of you and yes, you might ignore her amorous invitations to bed in favour of a computer game, but one day you will find a woman. Mark my words. A woman who will be more be than enough to compete with even the most high end computer."

Suddenly McGee's memory flashed up a series of events which it had been storing for just such an occasion – images of Ziva. Ziva: in his apartment with shreds of silky fine material barely clinging to her lithe figure. Ziva: straddling a chair with a see-through negligee hitching up past her firm rounded buttocks. Ziva: inviting him to bed night after night with a tone of hope and promise. Him: ignoring her. What had he been thinking? Did he really ask, 'why', in front of all those people? He was never going to live that down. Hold on … did she just kiss him?

"Do that again," he said.

"What?"

"That … that thing with the lips."

"This?" she asked, leaning over and taking him again.

"I um, wow." McGee blushed as they parted once again.

Ziva smiled seductively at him. "I will grant you one last chance to redeem yourself," she offered. "Tonight, or rather this morning: your place. You will prove to me that geeks still can be good husband material."

McGee's eyes opened wide. His mouth opened too but his brain could not quite construct an appropriate sentence, opting instead for a series of strangled peeping sounds.

"Do not worry, McGee," said Ziva innocently; resuming her driving as if nothing had happened, "I once read that, although women are attracted to men of danger, when it comes to breeding, they are drawn to the stable, boring mate who will provide for her offspring. Geeks, if you will."

"Didn't work for Eddy," McGee noted ruefully.

"Oh you are nothing like Eddy James," Ziva assured him. "He doesn't have your … qi."

"I remember when I didn't have qi," McGee reminisced, settling back in his chair with a playful smile in Ziva's direction. "It cost me 62 points and the game."

* * *

**The End**

* * *

_Thanks for the well-wishes for my mother. She is now out of hospital and settling into a nursing home._


End file.
